Darkest Fantasies (27 page)

For the second
time Kevin let go abruptly and his eyes flew open. He sat up again,
sploshing more water over the side, intensely annoyed at having his
pleasure summarily cut short, words of admonishment on his
lips.

But even as he
turned he knew the woman who leaned nonchalantly in the doorway was
not Esther. She wore a short dress of something lacy, through which
black satin underwear, sheer black stockings and suspender belt
were displayed to advantage, as was the enticing bulge of her
breasts and the flat expanse of her middle. Green eyes glittered
through a sequinned hood.

'I wouldn't do
that if I were you,' she said.

'What the
hell...?' he began, horrified, and lunged to his feet, his sexual
urge forgotten in the sudden panic.

She stood up
straight and her voice hardened. 'Esther will be a while. Get out
of the bath.'

'But... in my
own house? What's going on?'

'I said get
out!' Her voice was a whiplash, and he found himself obeying
instantly.

'That's
better. Now, put this on.' She handed him a collar from which hung
a strap fitted with wrist restraints.

'Oh no, Esther
mustn't know—'

'Put it on!'
His hands moved, buckled it around his neck. 'Turn it around and
put your hands behind you,' she commanded. Almost whimpering with
fear - and excitement - he did so, and allowed her to buckle his
wrists to the middle of his back. The front of the collar pulled on
his throat, made him retch, and his erection flourished.

'Now, open
your mouth.' She fed a ball gag between his lips and buckled it
firmly. 'Now, what was it you were saying about Esther?' she
mocked.

He groaned. He
was finished. Esther would come in, find him trussed like a
Christmas turkey at the whim of some strange woman and would
request an instant divorce on the grounds of sexual perversion.

She patted the
cheeks of his arse. 'Oh well,' she said, seemingly aware of his
thoughts. 'You can't hide your light under a bushel all your life.
The poor thing has to learn of your true nature at some time.'

She pulled a
leather hood over his head, buckling him firmly into darkness. He
choked briefly as her action forced the ball further into his
mouth, then controlled it. What did she mean about Esther learning
of his true nature?

'Good boy,'
the woman purred. 'Now, I've another little toy for you. You'll
like this. I bought it especially.' He jumped as she ran a
sharp-nailed finger down the middle of his back, between his tensed
buttocks, and pushed it briefly into his arse. His penis jumped.
'Turn around,' she ordered.

Reaching
between his thighs, her fingers brushed enticingly against his
aching balls. Despite his desperate predicament, he shuddered with
delicious expectation, and sure enough, she pulled something back
through, and as she pulled, something pressed against his anus and
entered, sliding in slowly and inexorably. His nostrils flared
within the hood as he inhaled deeply, stretched to accommodate
whatever it was that penetrated his rectum.

She fiddled
about below, and Kevin felt a sort of stretching and constricting
as she tightened leather straps; separating, lifting and squeezing.
Then she pulled a strap up to his chest and secured it to the
collar. He wriggled experimentally. It felt awful - and it felt
wonderful. A wide strap of leather bit into the cheeks of his arse,
and he couldn't move a muscle without something pulling
uncomfortably on his cock or balls.

'Nearly
there,' she said.

He groaned.
What next?

She ground his
nipples between her fingers, and when he tried to back away she
merely tugged the strap which went up his chest. He screamed behind
the gag and stepped forward involuntarily as the full force of her
persuasion nearly yanked off his undercarriage.

'You don't
make a move unless I tell you to, slave,' she said easily. 'Is that
clear?'

He nodded, and
stood obediently still while she attached sprung clips to his
nipples. From the strange tension he realised that those, too, must
be attached to the rest of the kit.

'Now, you will
walk forward,' she ordered.

With her hand
offering gentle persuasion on the strap at the front, he was
extremely careful. He cringed, knowing he was in his own house,
going down his own stairs, and that Esther might come in at any
moment and find him being humiliated by his mysterious woman - and
not for the first time. He wanted to tell her to hurry, to get him
out of the house and to wherever they were going.

They reached
the kitchen without mishap, and he heard her open the door to the
garage. Esther was the only one who ever used it - for the freezer,
and paints and things - but he knew the geography of his own house.
Had the black she-cat put her car in it, out of the way of prying
neighbour's eyes? He fervently hoped so.

His bare feet
padded quietly on the concrete floor, and she pulled him to a halt.
'Now, spread your legs and stand still,' she ordered curtly. He
felt more straps being buckled tightly around his ankles, and the
pressure of a stretcher between them. He wondered how she was going
to get him in a car like that. 'Just one more refinement,' she
said, and he felt his collar tighten even more.

Now what? He
pulled, took an awkward step forward, felt everything tighten as
whatever she had clipped to his collar held fast. What the hell was
she about?

'You really
are a rather nasty little man, aren't you?' the woman suddenly
whispered with apparent loathing. He tensed, wondering if this was
where she was going to beat him.

But the
silence lengthened menacingly.

'You see,' she
eventually said out of the darkness, 'I thought it was time your
poor wife got to know just what a worm you really are. I'm
therefore going to leave you here for her to find.'

He made
muffled, spluttering noises behind the mask.

'I expect you
wondered who phoned you to say your wife was in hospital, didn't
you?' she went on, patronising him.

He froze,
waiting to hear more.

'I also phoned
that dear innocent little secretary, Gloria, and told her that her
boss had a dose of the clap. I don't think you'll be getting any
joy with her, in future.'

Kevin clenched
his fists behind his back. He'd love to get this woman's neck
between them. He gave an angry pull at the tough leather, gasped,
felt tears spring to his eyes, and waited, breath held, while the
pain receded.

'Do you want
to know what else I've done?' He didn't want to know, but she was
going to tell him anyway.

'Well, I've
written it all down. The hotels, the dates, the times. And I've
left it all on your kitchen table.'

Kevin made a
strangled, pleading noise.

'She's not
stupid,' the taunting continued. 'She'll know what she reads is the
truth. The time for retribution is at hand, Kevin. You may or may
not like it, depending on how forgiving dear Esther turns out to
be.' Her voice dripped sarcasm, and Kevin recalled using those very
words not so long ago.

'Now, I am
going to leave a few of my little toys here for your wife. The
cane. The bullwhip. The electricity kit. Do you think she'll just
come in and release you, Kevin? I don't. I'm sure she'll rise to
the occasion in splendid style.' He sensed amusement. 'Probably you
will too. Now, goodbye, sweetie.'

Sure enough
she gave a parting tweak at his bonds, making him wince, before he
heard her heels clack towards the door, into the kitchen, and
away.

Oh, Jesus, he
thought, and began to work at his bonds with utter desperation,
only to realise it was hopeless.

He stood with
his legs spread vulnerably in the chilly garage, unable to shuffle
more than a step in each direction before something pulled
unbearably.

But he
couldn't just accept this humiliation; his naked vulnerability was
almost as great a disaster as the letter awaiting Esther in the
kitchen. So he twitched and turned, unwittingly causing the
strategically placed straps, clips and bungs to do their dastardly
work.

His betraying
body tingled with the erotic sensation of leather pressed tight,
and his cock swelled as the bung in his arse stretched and
tantalised, and his nipples throbbed as the clamps tightened around
the tortured buds.

Oh, the shame
of it all. Not only was Esther going to return to find him like
something out of a fetish magazine, but she was going to find him
proudly and undeniably rampant. He felt like crying, because the
discovery would utterly disgust her and drive her from him. It
would be the end of their marriage, of that he was convinced. And
that was something he'd never wanted.

He waited in
silence, realising how unhappy he felt at the thought of losing his
wife. Why had he been such an unfaithful prat?

The kitchen
door slammed.

He tensed,
holding his breath.

There was a
long silence. She was reading the letter. He whimpered. He heard
soft footsteps padding towards the garage. There was another
uncomfortably long silence. He turned his head to the direction of
where he thought the door was. He heard a shocked gasp, and froze.
He moaned, hung his head, wanting to hide. But he couldn't, so he
stood there like a piece of meat for her to scrutinise, unable even
to plead forgiveness.

'Kevin,'
Esther eventually said quietly. 'Kevin, is that you under
there?'

He made feeble
noises of repentance.

'Oh my,' she
gasped. 'Oh my, oh my!' He sensed her walk forward, but instead of
releasing him she inspected the straps; looking, testing, seeing
what moved what and what was attached to where. She brushed against
the nipple clamps and touched the strap between his legs that held
the plug in his arse.

'Oh my,' she
said again. Only this time he heard the small hint of excitement in
her voice.

Excitement?
Esther?

He listened.
She seemed to be walking away. No, she was coming back. He writhed
in his bonds. He wanted to plead to be released, to be allowed to
explain.

'Did you do
all those things?' she asked softly. 'All those things I've just
read?'

He shook his
head frantically, making urgent noises.

'Liar,' she
said firmly.

He felt the
tentative bite of the cane on his thigh. He froze. Esther had hit
him? Then it came again, harder. He could almost visualise her
standing there, wondering how hard she could - or should - beat
him. He could almost see her hardening features as she realised she
could do exactly as she pleased to punish him - to extract revenge
for the gory details she'd just had to read.

'Admit it,'
she said. This time the cane bit deeper. He yelped, winced twice -
once at the cane, the other because he had flinched a fraction too
far.

He knew the
next one was going to hurt. He heard the whistle. It landed across
his buttocks and made him howl. He tried to turn away, but all he
could do was to shuffle around - which he regretted as the next
slash bit across his chest, catching one of his pulsing nipples.
Through his pain he heard her give a grunt of satisfaction. She was
enjoying it! His wife was beating the shit out of him, and was
enjoying it! He yanked at the bonds. Just let him get free, and
he'd show her who was boss...

But he
couldn't free himself any more now than he could before, and the
blows landed steadily and surely. Whichever way he shuffled he
wished he hadn't as the cane found increasingly sensitive areas
with alarming accuracy. She was not only enjoying it, he
discovered, she was getting better at it.

His muffled
cries were ignored, and the more she plied the cane and the more he
danced the more the bondage came into play.

He wasn't sure
at which particular stroke he lost his sense of righteous anger,
his conception of the rights and wrongs of things; the point at
which his body's sexual drive overwhelmed him, stopped him from
thinking; the time when the slashes became a pleasure, and his
constricted cock and balls were throbbing with a bursting need to
be massaged.

His indignant
cries turned to groans. Oh, touch me, he was whimpering inside his
head, and his hands were fingers were clenching and unclenching
behind his back with the need to finish the job - with the pleasure
of not being able to do so.

Suddenly, out
of the darkness he sensed a change. She stopped beating him. He
moaned again, but this time because he wanted her to carry on, to
beat him into sexual submission. His erection was vast and in need
of relief. What was she doing?

He gasped as
she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he leaned back as she
lowered herself onto his rampant cock, each leg lifted in turn and
clenched around his hips. Once tightly wrapped against his trussed
body she began to glide slowly up and down on his straining
erection. It was all he could do to stand with his parted legs
locked, his muscles straining as she rode him - as Esther, his
wife, rode him like a seasoned breaker. He could do nothing but
stand and accept, until the time came when his own tension rose
like a geyser from within and could not be suppressed any longer.
With gritted teeth and a heartfelt groan he shot his load, and with
an equally loud cry Esther came too, wilting against his sweating
chest, her face sinking to his sweating shoulder.

After a few
minutes she climbed from him and they both breathed heavily in the
silence. Fingers fumbled at his hood, lifted it a bit and removed
the ball gag. He groaned with relief and worked some movement into
his jaw.

'Esther...
honey?' he eventually said tentatively.

There was a
short silence, and then the unexpected swish of the cane. 'I've
always hated being called honey,' she said venomously. 'I've told
you that so many times and you just wouldn't listen. Well, now you
have to listen, don't you?'